Shelter
by FuriousDedenne
Summary: After witnessing the murder of a powerful figure in the Rebels, a young Spinarak finds himself enveloped into a world of war between the corrupted government and trainers that he had never known existed. The only safety is the Rebel home base, Shelter. Here, he meets dozens of young trainers fighting for a cause... an ever unclear cause in an ever changing world. SYOC closed.
1. Savior

**Chapter 1**

The train station was empty.

It had been empty for years, of course, and had been amassing dust for as long as anyone could remember. The exits at either end of the slender black tunnel were boarded up so tightly that not a sliver of temperate light could stretch across the ground, and as thus, it had been shut away from the outside world completely. An eerie silence cloaked the almost otherworldly building, and all was still, save for one lone creature. A small Spinarak had recently made its home in a high corner of the abandoned establishment, regarding it as homey and pleasant. It was hard at work in the darkness, using all six of its spindly, striped legs to avoid falling to the gelid cement far below, creating a home for itself. The two pairs of limbs in front held itself fastened to its half-finished web, while the hindlimbs grappled tightly at what seemed to be an impossible angle and helped to pull strings of gossamer silk from its greenish abdomen. Suddenly, it stopped in its handiwork and looked down with a curious chitter of surprise. Something– or someone– was trying to break in! They sounded desperate, too; a strangled cry escaped the creature as it clawed at the battens bottling up the old building and broke away large chunks of wood. The little arachnid sensed danger from this powerful and unknown source and immediately retreated up into the farthest corners of its mesh residence to observe in safety.

It didn't take much longer for the frantic beast to break through the laths. With one final roar, the boarded entrance buckled and splintered into a dozen sharp splinters. Instead of the sunlight the tiny creature expected, a sort of grayish-hued shadow knifed into the old building as the animal crashed through in a frenzy of panic. It was a male Garchomp of immense size, towering over seven feet, with what seemed like hundreds of recent battle wounds slicing deep into its nearly jet black hide. One older wound in particular caught the eye of the tiny spider– a huge scar worming from the tip of its starry yellow forehead down across the side of its face. Its right eye had seemingly been halved down the middle, as though the cut had been performed slowly and deliberately to end there. The Pokemon staggered in its own blood, now a dark crimson puddle quickly slicking the floor, and used the sharp, red-rimmed fins that made up its arms as crutches to stay upright. Its chest heaved painfully in and out whilst it stared up anxiously at the hole it had created in the wall. The Spinarak stared, too, completely mesmerized by the scene unfolding in front of it. Apparently, it was storming outside. The train station had been so tightly sealed that the spider had not heard a thing. But now that its home had been breached, it was an entirely different story. The wind was a monster, howling icy tunes from the darkness and crying violent torrents of rain and hail. The dual type could just barely see a field of discolored grass stretching on beneath an ominous gray sky out of view from the awkward angle it hid at. What was the unexpected visitor so afraid of, it wondered? What had caused the mighty drake's wounds? Its questions were answered mere moments later.

An explosion of silvery-pink light knocked the Garchomp off of its feet, filling the entirety of the station with a bright flare. The Spinarak released a tiny gasp as it saw the chamber's insides lit for the first time. It was just for a few seconds, but it took in as much as it could. A mighty black snake of a train sat solemnly upon the tracks, a reptile lying in wait for its prey, the metallic hide gleaming sinisterly. Then the darkness swallowed it up again. It had looked... new. Very new. But how could that be? It made no sense to the arachnid. Everything else surrounding it, in that brief second of brightness, had looked dirty and forgotten. Something was not right. It turned its horrified gaze back to the broken hole in the entrance, where the draconic Pokemon lay in a crumpled heap on the ground. Grubby moonlight fell over its battered and broken body as it struggled to stand.

"Ah, the beauty of death."

The poison and bug type startled and immediately turned its beady black eyes to the one who had spoken. It was a human male, not of particular size or stature, but of a menacing nature, with crystalline blue eyes and a thinly set mouth against ghostly pale skin. Dark brown hair spilled around his head– truly, hair was such an odd thing to the shelled spider– and he pushed some of it out of his face to begin a haughty speech to the injured dragon type. As he spoke, a Pokemon unlike anything the Spinarak had ever seen floated into view beside him. It seemed humanlike, yet was something from another planet altogether. A swath of turquoise hair was slicked away from the beast's pure white face, and its orange eyes glittered in the darkness. It wore a bow on its chest of the same sickly color, but the sweeping black dress that trailed behind it was what truly made it frightening.

"Tell me, Lark. You seem to have some sort of... fascination... with life. As do many others of the rebellion. Why is life the driving force that keeps your pathetic uprising stumbling on its feet? Everything, eventually, must die. Not a single crop escapes the frost, every last little insect beneath you dries up and turns to dust. All death needs to keep its formidable cogs turning is time. Time... and victims. You ought to come out of hiding. Your precious Garchomp can't keep you hidden forever."

The arachnid had not even noticed the second trainer at first. In the heavy curtain of darkness, he had been almost invisible. But now he had crept all the way around the monologuing villain from behind his teammate, and now picked up one of the splinters of fallen wood from the boards. It had to have been well over two feet in length, with multiple jagged tips. Perfect for stabbing. The little insect rooted for this evident ally of the drake in silence, though it was not terribly fond of blood, and waited in breathless terror for the killing blow. With a backwards snap of his wrist and a shrill war cry, the smaller trainer threw the heavy piece of timber like a spear straight at his opponent's exposed back.

Three things happened in quick succession after that. The intended recipient of the weapon turned around and grabbed the makeshift javelin as if it were no more than a twig first, wielding it as a bat to swing it around and crack it against the side of the trainer's head. A spray of blood flew through the air, and the man staggered backwards feebly. Moments after, the dragon type scrambled to its feet with an incandescent roar and launched itself at its foe, while the ghostly black and orange beast swept in between the two and met the furious Garchomp head on with an transcendent cry of its own. The fight only lasted about a minute, but the Spinarak was horrified to realize that not only was the Pokemon he had been cheering for losing terribly, but its injured ally had disappeared altogether into the rain outside. The seconds ticked by, and slowly the battle came to a standstill. The Spinarak watched the draconic beast stagger and sink to its knees. A flash of white enveloped it as its head drooped in shame, and the spider quickly realized that it had been mega evolved. Now it was once more an average sized Garchomp, and seemed so much weaker. Tired. Afraid. Slowly, it fell in a lake of its own blood. The drake been defeated.

"Pathetic. Gardevoir, kill him. Erase all the evidence as well. We need to move quickly if we intend to catch up with Lark." The voice of the human was cold and without mercy or reason. The beast, evidently a Gardevoir, nodded and turned back to its hapless victim. It created another one of its pink tinted light orbs in its hands, this one twice as large as its first one, and slowly pulled back one arm to throw it in a deadly overhand toss. The villain turned heel and walked out of the building.

The tiny creature couldn't bear to see what happened next. It used a single silk thread to descend all the way to the ground as quickly as it could, and scuttled out into the storm in all haste. Just moments after escaping, an explosion threw it into the air and sent it sailing over a nearby grassy hill. It landed on its side with a loud snap, and released a burbling cry of pain that was swallowed up in the howling wind. But it didn't have time to so much as glance at whatever wound it had just suffered, because it was grabbed by the abdomen and hoisted up into the air upside down promptly. It found itself staring at the bedraggled and beaten head of none other than the Garchomp's trainer. The entire right side of his head was so covered in blood that half of his face was completely hidden from view. Its small eyes widened in horror and it began to chitter senselessly, pleading not to be killed. But of course, most humans didn't understand the age old language of Pokemon anymore, and this one was among them. But he did seem to get the point. He dropped down to his knees and gently set the spider down again, using his hands to shield it somewhat from the raging rains.

"How did you get all the way out here, little guy? I guess you're not really that little, though... hell, you're almost as big as my Eevee back home." The trainer laughed faintly, but the mirth died off before long. "Were you in the old train station?"

Silently the dual type nodded. It wanted to help, somehow. He seemed outmanned, outgunned, and entirely out of hope. Even if it was via something as small as providing information, perhaps it would help the trainer in some way. A heavy sigh escaped the bleeding man as he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

"Hey, listen. I was hit really hard by that man back there. You saw it happen, right? His name is Everest, and he works for the government. They're the bad guys here."

The spider didn't quite grasp the concept of a government, but it was fairly certain that it was some form of human authority, so it nodded again and pretended it knew what he was talking about. Another blast of wind nearly knocked it over, but it braced itself firmly and squeaked in quiet determination. It wouldn't let this storm buffet it... not during such an important conversation.

"Oh... you're missing two legs," the trainer murmured as it scooped up the dual type. Indeed, after a closer inspection it hadn't bothered to take, it found that its front and middle limbs on its left had been broken off. Evidently, that was what caused the snap on impact, even though it didn't sting anymore. It whimpered sadly, knowing they would never grow back. Not until it evolved, at least; if it could find enough prey and train hard enough. "Poor little guy. I hope it doesn't hurt too badly. But you're a bug, so I guess you don't feel as much pain as a human would." For a moment, he was quiet, as if thinking. But then he took a deep breath and started to speak once more.

"I suppose you deserve some form of an explanation. My name is Lark Orwille. Since Everest is with the bad guys, I'm pretty much one of his arch enemies. I'm a scout working for the Rebels. The second in command to the head scout, by the way. That's a pretty high position." The Spinarak noticed a small flush of pride in his cheeks when he said this. "We're working to get rid of the government together, right? They've treated us trainers cruelly for years now, and we're starting to fight back at last. We're disorganized and stuff right now, since it's only been about a year, but we're a threat to them. A big threat."

Here he stopped, looking distressed as he stared up into the rain that was starting to wash blood and grime from his face. It could finally see some of his features. He had light brown skin and messy black hair that fell into his chocolate colored eyes, which were quickly filling with tears. "The Garchomp in there was my partner. I have a whole team of Pokemon back at base, but he was my right hand man since I was three years old. He protected me to the very end... but I know he couldn't have survived that explosion. Not after the wounds he suffered. He died nobly. To think... of this would have happened if I had just run away while I had the chance. But my pride won out; seeing Everest within my grasp just made me lose all my reasoning. It was my own selfishness that killed my Garchomp."

The spider rested a forelimb on his leg comfortingly, a gentle chitter escaping it. It had never cared for any other being like family, but watching such a noble creature being torn to pieces by those awful bad guys positively horrified it. It looked up just in time to see the tiniest hint of a smile smile flit across the man's face. Lark. The name was singsong, and the Spinarak liked it very much. It liked the smile, too. It liked everything about this trainer. But all too quickly, the happiness was replaced with yet another solemn expression.

"I guess that my point is, I– agh!" Lark doubled over in pain and dropped his small conversation partner to the ground to throw his hands to his head. It squealed in fright and looked up at him. The wound he had suffered was worse than it had originally thought! Blood had started to gush from it again, but he looked up bravely and thrust something towards the Spinarak. Upon closer inspection, it proved to be a small leather bag, quite dry despite being relentlessly battered by the rain and sleet. It determined that it must be waterproof, but now was not the time. It scuttled closer and squeaked questioningly at the trainer.

"Look... I don't have much time left. I'm honestly surprised I've stayed conscious this long. I'm going to be with my Garchomp soon," he murmured quietly amid denying cries from the dual type. The human couldn't die! Not so soon after their meeting! He couldn't! But the fate of the human was not its own to guide.

"I'm going to ask you to do me a really, really big favor. Would you do it? For me?" Lark asked desperately. The little Pokemon agreed without a second thought. It was ready to help in any way it could. Yet it watched miserably as he reached for the bag, opened it up, and took out a pen and a piece of paper with ink all over it, knowing that this would probably be the last time it ever saw him. He huddled over the leather to keep the paper dry, scrawling in shaky handwriting something at the very end of the already written letter. Then he shoved both items back inside and and leaned back dizzily.

"I need you to take this bag back to the Rebel base. The letter in there is really important. Here... look up." This it did willingly, and found itself staring into rain and clouds. "See that little patch of clear sky? Right there, that's a star. It's part of a whole constellation that looks kind of like a Krabby. Just keep heading in the direction of that star, even if it disappears. Follow your own trail if you need to. It'll be easier once the storm clears. I'm trusting you big-time right now, for the record. That constellation leads directly to one of the tunnels that take us down underground. Take the bag straight to the nearest person you find once you get there... you'll uh, you'll know it when you see it. They'll know what to do with it. And if anyone tries to take either of the letter from you, don't try to protect it. Call for help, maybe, but don't risk your own life. I don't want you getting hurt at the expense of the Rebels. You're being awfully kind just by helping."

The instructions the small creature had been given spun around in its head. It did its best to remember, using a little chant to get it right. Bag, Krabby, person. Bag, Krabby, person. It could do this. It gave a determined trill and pushed the strap of the bag over its head. Another smile, this one longer and albeit a bit more tired, graced the brownish features of Lark.

"Thank you. Thank you so much, little guy... I don't know how I could possibly portray my appreciation to you right now. If I live... in any way at all..." The spider cocked its head curiously. In any way at all? What was that supposed to mean? Wasn't there only one way to live? "If I do, I'll repay you somehow. I don't know how yet. But it'll be in the best way possible, okay?" A thunderbolt rumbled overhead as he spoke, and the Spinarak looked up and whimpered for a moment. But it was ready to be brave. The trainer patted its small head.

"Go on, now. Move quickly. Everest isn't far off. I'm going to lead him away from you while I still have the strength. Thank you again... you're literally my savior. Can I call you that? Savior? I hope it doesn't sound too royal or anything. Yeah, I like that. You're male, right? By all hells, I'm gonna call you Savior." In one quick movement the man had hoisted himself to his feet and was staggering away over the hill. It watched him go for awhile before a sudden pink blast that shot into the air caused it to scuttle backwards. Perhaps it was time to go. The small Spinarak turned its head up to the star and purred softly. Savior. It had a name. It liked the name. His name was to be Savior. Savior looked back in the direction Lark had gone once, twice, and finally scuttled off through the grass. Little did he know, the tiny arachnid hidden in the corner of a supposedly abandoned train station was the only hope for the Rebels. He would truly have to become their Savior.

A shadow passed over the earth, eyes staring up from within the storm clouds, down at the small Pokemon. The storm seemed to be alive as it whispered the name.

Savior.

Savior.

Savior.


	2. Promises

**Chapter 2**

Both rain and Pokemon had always been good things to Cavan Coy of the Rebellion, but having a sopping wet bug drop onto his head in the dead of the night while on watch duty was not exactly the peace he'd been expecting from the night's thunderstorm.

Cavan wasn't afraid to drop the occasional colorful word into his speech, but he sure did paint a rainbow with his sentences on that particular occasion as he screamed out into the night air and flung the creature off of his crown of jet black hair with both hands. It flew through the air and tumbled into a patch of weeds, squealing the entire time and flailing its thin legs upwards like an upturned Tirtouga once it had landed. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was indeed stuck quite hopelessly, as a bug missing two legs cannot flip over quite so easily. A short laugh that could almost be called a bark escaped him as he turned the bug– a Spinarak, evidently– back onto its stomach and gave its abdomen an awkward pat, muttering an apology to go along with it. The fair-skinned Rebel wasn't easily startled and a confident young man, so the idea of being frightened by a Pokemon hardly a foot long was nothing short of embarrassing to him. At least he was on watch alone tonight; strangely, not one unfamiliar person had been spotted in the woods for the last month, and their leader had ordered for the amount of people guarding the well hidden entrance to their base be dropped to one. Everyone had appreciated being able to rest longer, but the peace was unnatural. And why wouldn't it be? The thick forest was a popular hotspot for the government and trainers alike for one simple reason– it provided cover.

It was the only place with trees for miles, and even though it was huge, it had once been much bigger. Over years, the diverse Pokemon habitat had been logged away by greedy companies and real estate agencies. Now, the wooded land was surrounded by fields of oddly colored grass beneath a purplish sky filled with smog for as far as the eye could see. Factories pumped filthy smoke into the air, and the sheer amount of chemicals that were produced had killed the fertility of the soil. Nothing much more than unkempt weeds would ever grow there again. Even in the heart of the timberland, the mighty trees– some of which were hundreds of feet tall– were dying at a slow but steady rate. And in a world where everyone was simply trying to keep themselves alive, who would want to take care of mere plants? The withering shrubbery was a good hiding spot for either a fleeing trainer or a patrolling government official.

At the very least, the tunnel entrance was well hidden among the dying shrubs and undergrowth, some of their leaves of which he had to brush from his hair as he stared down at the shaking dual type. It had a small leather handbag looped around it, and seemed to know exactly what was inside of it and what it wanted to do with it. It bounced up and down with frantic chittering and turned circles, nudging the waterlogged bag towards him. Hesitantly, Cavan picked it up. Then he noticed a small mark that reflected in his crystalline blue eyes. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, and if you didn't look hard enough in the dark, it just seemed to be a stain. But the trainer knew the scent, and his eyes widened. It was fresh blood.

"The hell is going on here...?" he muttered. Cavan had quite basically been told to guard the entrance until the next person came onto shift, stopping and alerting the others only if a suspicious figure passed by. He had most definitely _not_ been told he would have to deal with panicked Pokemon and their bloodstained purses; or whatever this thing was. He paused and stared at it harder. "Wait a second. This isn't leather..." There was no flexible feel to it. It was made of something else altogether– but what?

The bag was oddly crafted, made of some foreign material he couldn't identify for the life of him that deflected rainwater with ease, and was strapped down with what looked to be a genuine gold clasp. The letter _A_ was engraved into the metal and rusting away with obvious overuse. Though a tiny part of him wanted to pocket it for himself, he knew better. This was an odd thing to come across, and it was his job to report it to one of his higher-ups as soon as possible. Trust was an important factor in the Rebellion; they'd already had three people in the last few months ditch them for the supposed 'safety' of being on the government's good side. So, although he was reluctant to do so, he didn't open it. He'd take on a hired hitman over the leader of the Rebellion any day. He stood, turned, and stopped yet again. He'd almost forgotten about the small creature that had brought him the bag in the first place!

The Spinarak was still stuck in the undergrowth, one leg caught in a thick strand of grass, and struggling to free itself, though its squeaks were drowned out by the wind. The Rebel rubbed his temple with his thumb and forefinger and sighed dramatically. Could a bug type do _anything_ by itself? He laughed to himself as he crouched down to pull it from its prison of greenery. Yes, yes it could. His partner would vouch for that. As soon as it was untangled, the dual type thanked him with a long string of high-pitched chitters that Cavan quickly cut off by pressing a finger to his lips.

"Okay, look. I don't know if you belong to a trainer or something, but you did bring me that bag, and it looks pretty important. If you'd like to come with me, I think I could jump through a couple hoops. But you've got to stay in my backpack for awhile if you do, got it? For all we know, there's a microphone hidden on you or something. What do you say?"

The small arachnid's two beady black eyes expanded so intensely that Cavan was apt to wonder if it was sick, and it squealed with joy as it practically flung itself straight into his backpack laying half-unzipped on the ground. A couple good wiggles and it was inside. The Rebel laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head, totally baffled with the night's events.

"I guess that's how you catch a Pokemon."

* * *

"This is ridiculous!"

A sickening crunch resounded throughout the tent as the commander lost his temper. In just a mere moment the chair he had been leaning against and clutching with tight fingers was missing all four legs. They had snapped under the pressure of him pushing down on it. His chest heaved with frustration, and he dramatically dropped the destroyed piece of furniture to the ground, green eyes glittering in withheld rage. He was a trainer of imposing stature, carrying himself with pride and standing a head taller than the man in the meeting chamber, with smooth dark skin and jet black hair that spiked near the bottom to give him double the frightening edge. Everyone in the headquarters gave him a wide girth when he was in this kind of mood... the commander was not one to be trifled with.

"How do we ever expect to find him in this weather? For all we know, that bastard is dead and rotting away in a ditch by now!" he hissed as his gaze snapped to his companion. Present in the tent was one of his few good friends– Anthony, the Head Scout of the Rebels. He looked tired and somber as he spoke.

"Easy, Garren, easy. We're not going to get anywhere so as long as you're upset. We need to keep clear heads in a situation like this." Anthony Krauss, for once, was not smiling. His gentle brown eyes were mirthless, instead filled with solemn worry; and who wouldn't be worried right now? Lark, one of their best scouts, had been gone for days past his scheduled return date without any form of contact. Everyone feared the worst for the chipper young man, and a cold gloom had fallen over Shelter. The mocha-colored man wrapped his fingers around a thread on his shirt, playing with it endlessly, and tucked a loose strand of his amber hair behind his ear. It was normally kept in a small, tight ponytail, but today, he had lost his only rubber band and was forced to leave it down. Garren glanced up as his friend fidgeted and grunted softly, his expression softening. His deep voice was a rumbling waterfall filled with loose gravel, moving slowly and articulately, as he made his next statement.

"If Lark dies, we lose more than just a good teammate. We lose any information he might have gathered about the Obsidian Project, and..." His voice broke here ever so slightly, and he looked down a little. "Perhaps even Leon's spirit."

"No. The general wouldn't let this define him. He isn't that kind of leader," Anthony insisted a little too quickly. Garren bit his lip so hard that it began to bleed. The crimson drops slid down his chin and dripped down onto his hands, now resting against the table. He stared at them in silence for awhile.

"Perhaps Everest was right. The Rebellion is on a downwards spiral to defeat," he murmured. The wiry older trainer slammed his fists down onto the table, startling Garren into quieting. He looked startled as Anthony came right up to him, staring up into his face with passion burning in his eyes.

"The Rebellion is nowhere near falling. We're stronger than ever, Gary, and you know it! Don't give up yet. Please. We _all_ need you right now." He rested a hand on his chest and stared up at him plaintively. "If the others find out that you don't have any hope left... everyone else will lose theirs, too. We need strong leaders now. Leaders like Leon, Kaen... and you. This is nothing like your usual attitude! I want to see the Garren everyone knows and loves. I want to–"

The heavy entrance flap to the meeting tent was thrown open, effectively ending the debate between the two and drawing them apart, and the silhouette of a lesser known trainer, Cavan, appeared, eyes wide.

"Commander Garren, sir? I've found something I think you'd like to see."

* * *

Savior had been stuck in his new friend's backpack for what felt like ages before he finally tasted fresh air again. He tumbled to the ground with a confused squeak and hit dirt, a dizzy feeling coming over him. The Spinarak managed to shuffle himself into an upright position and glanced around, seeing a strange new person crouching before him. He had spiky red hair and was quite tall, speaking in a soft voice to him... hold on, what was he saying? Startled, the dual type began to pay attention.

"I can't promise you that you'll ever be able to walk the same again, but I will do my very best," the man insisted with flat emotion in his dull eyes. They were a gentle hazel color that blended into his pale face. Savior liked them. Why was it the eyes of a human he always seemed to be drawn towards? Perhaps it was because they held emotion– emotion that Pokemon simply could not portray in the same way. But these ones were different. They were filled with pain... withheld pain, as if he didn't want anybody to know how he really felt. The arachnid tilted his head curiously, and the trainer did the same. "You look confused. I said I was going to design you prosthetics, no? The commander's orders. Come along, now, so I can take measurements. I have a lot to do right now besides tend to bugs."

The Pokemon did not 'come along,' however. He still did not understand what was going on. What was a prosthetic, and how would it help him walk? Why did this human seem so flat and sad? A tiny chitter of question escaped him as the man turned his back. For a moment, he was silent, as if considering whether or not to say something. Then he continued walking.

"Hurry up," he growled. There was an edge to his voice so threatening that Savior snapped to reality and shot after him as fast as an uneven Spinarak could carry itself. He'd ponder about everything he'd experienced today at a later time.

Right now? What was important was that he kept his promise. He was going to help Lark and his friends, no matter what.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Hello, everyone! Normally, I always include an author's note at the end of each of my chapters, but for some reason, I didn't add one to the opening of Shelter. From now on, I'll be trying to keep in touch via these A/N's, so expect plenty of them. My first and foremost thing to mention is how much I apologize for the wait! This ended up taking far longer than I expected, and even now, I'm not too happy with how the chapter turned out. But I wanted SOMETHING to be available so that you all could know that no, I'm not dead; but I do in fact have a terrible tendency to spontaneously pump out three chapters in a week during a burst of inspiration... or lose my zest for a long while and not post a chapter for two months and then say nothing about it. Please do bear with me, and keep in mind I will probably end up rewriting or heavily editing this chapter. Next order of business_ – _I am SO HAPPY with the characters that were sent in! They're all beautifully designed and have unique personalities, and I can't wait to let their stories unfold in this tale... thank you everyone who has decided to stick by me in this journey! I hope we'll all be able to trek through it through the ups and downs. Please enjoy the unveiling of our first three (well, technically four) OC's, and please do follow, favorite, and review!_

 _~FuriousDedenne_


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